


The Set-up

by mooglecharm (morphaileffect)



Series: The Set-up [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Hotel Sex, Humor, M/M, Massage, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/pseuds/mooglecharm
Summary: Luna keeps sending Ignis and Ravus out together on diplomatic missions. Noctis doesn't like it. On their fourth mission, however, things come to a head...(The Nox Fleuret siblings are sexy but weird, Noct can’t keep his mouth shut, and Ignis builds a list of things to apologize to Ravus for.)
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ravus Nox Fleuret/Ignis Scientia
Series: The Set-up [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930120
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mochatrope ♥♥♥ whose idea this was to begin with, and who has also specified that this is “an AU where nobody dies.”
> 
> I’m presuming also that in this AU, nobody got blinded and nobody’s arm got burned off by nobody’s ring. Luna and Noct got married in their 20s, Noct still becomes king (there’s no need for a Wall now, so Regis happily retires and lives off the land, idk), Niflheim is defeated and Eos is going through a long, tedious process of rehabilitation. It’s a time of disarmament, of forging peace pacts, trade deals and lasting alliances.

“You sent them away _where_?”

“Altissia,” Luna cheerfully repeated. “New trade routes need to be finalized. Formal representatives from Lucis were requested for the deliberations, so I sent the two of them.”

Finalizing trade routes...this meant Ignis was going to be away for at least another week. And Noctis had been counting on his advice to deal with certain matters of state.

True, he could just call Ignis to consult - and it _was_ important to firm up those trade routes to Altissia.

However...

“My love,” he cautiously began, “this is the fourth time you’ve sent them away together. I haven’t seen Ignis for more than 30 minutes _total_ since we came back from our honeymoon in Tenebrae. That was three months ago.” He sighed. “And when I _do_ see him, it’s only so he can tell me you’re sending him away with Ravus _again_. To be honest, I’m starting to forget what he looks like.”

Sometimes things could make you anxious enough, Noctis mused, without your wife smiling innocently, as if she didn’t owe you an explanation.

And the anxiety just got worse if said wife was looking up at you, hands behind her back and a twinkle in her eyes, like a mischievous child with a plan to save the world.

“Was there a specific _reason_ why they had to take this specific trip together?” Noctis pressed.

“Because Altissia is such a romantic place,” was Luna’s very honest answer. “And they’re cute together, aren’t they?”

“WHAT?!”

It came out as less of a sputter, and more of a yell.

Luna was taken aback.

“You,” she began, wide-eyed, “don’t agree?”

Noctis told himself to calm down. Luna didn’t mean ill. Of course she didn’t.

But holy hell.

“ _Cute_?” he echoed disbelievingly. “Are you seriously -- Ravus??”

Luna frowned. “What’s the matter with Ravus?”

Noctis didn’t even have to think about it. “He sided with the Empire and tried to get us all killed!”

“Yes...but...in the end, he didn’t.” She eyed him sidelong. “You’re not holding a grudge against him for something that _never happened_ , are you?”

How do you tell your wife, the love of your life, that _YES, you ARE holding a grudge against her older brother, for trying to kill you, even if he didn’t succeed_?

“Darling.” Noctis stepped up close to her, running his hands over her arms reassuringly. “I swear I’m not holding a grudge. It’s just...Ignis is like a brother to me. Setting up our brothers just seems a little...weird.”

“Weird?” Luna held his arms, in return. So they just stood there, holding each other apart, letting an unfamiliar tension brew in the space between them. “How come?”

“Well, their...uhh, personalities...don’t quite match up for me.”

“Really?” Luna let go of him and stepped away. “I happen to think they’re a pretty good match. They’re both disciplined and caring, and put duty above all else. Not to mention they’re both hopelessly stuffy and repressed, don’t you think so?”

“That’s...I guess true,” Noctis admitted, grimacing in his heart of hearts.

“Plus,” Luna brightly added, “I happen to know my brother’s type.”

 _Oh dear gods_ , Noctis almost said aloud.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea, though?” He scratched his head uneasily. “It’s just that - your brother is a little -”

“A little _what..._?”

Noct had never lived with Luna before. He couldn’t have known what her “don’t you finish that sentence” tone sounded like. To him, it was her usual sweet, dulcet “you can tell me anything” voice.

“- Murderous?” he therefore cluelessly spouted. “Predatory? Rage-filled? Tunnel-visioned? Oh, and how about - ”

He went on and on, oblivious to the steady darkening of Luna’s face.

And that, according to the rumors that flew around and from the Citadel, was the beginning of the end for King Noctis Lucis Caelum.


	2. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to see my sketch for Ravus wearing a three-piece suit, it's [on my Tumblr.](https://mooglecharm.tumblr.com/post/629678008287035392/mooglecharm-why-does-luna-send-ravus-off-with)

It was his and Ravus’ fourth time traveling together, by the Queen’s orders.

It almost felt effortless, now.

Ignis wasn’t going to kid himself: at first, it was definitely tough.

They both had their routines. Ravus, with his domineering personality, insisted on having his own way, and criticized Ignis constantly for not being able to keep up with him. Occasionally referred to him as “boy” even in formal settings.

Ravus treated Ignis like an underling when, after the fall of Niflheim, they pretty much enjoyed the same official rank in the Lucian council (Ravus was the Queen’s adviser; Ignis the King’s). He spoke over Ignis at almost every turn, insisted on making the smallest decision - even went so far as to contradict Ignis at critical diplomatic junctures, just because he could.

Ravus was a prince with no kingdom to inherit, a commander with no army to lead. Ignis supposed the huge chip on his shoulder was understandable...

Still, Ignis was damned if he was going to keep letting him get away with it.

When it was time to prepare for the second trip, Ignis knew what to do. He talked to Luna extensively and did his research. So he knew exactly what would keep Ravus in good humor.

It paid off.

If you carefully manipulated the things you said so that Ravus would _think_ he was the one who was right, and if you made it a habit to defer to him on small, inconsequential matters, he was pliant, even agreeable sometimes.

Ravus in good humor was...surprisingly pleasant.

And surprisingly considerate.

On their third journey, as they set out to forge a covenant with Lucian nobles outside of Insomnia, Ravus actually remembered that Ignis liked Ebony coffee, and brought along an entire box as part of his week-long luggage. He dismissed Ignis’ speculations by saying he simply heard good things about the brand...and then never touched the stuff, leaving it all for Ignis to enjoy.

And - he had actually agreed to let Ignis decide on Lucian formal raiment for him to wear. This was, Ignis felt, his crowning achievement so far.

The sight of Ravus with his wild hair tied back, in a three-piece all-black suit, had sufficiently impressed and mollified the Lucian nobles who had come to the bargaining table wary, knowing they were about to face a former high commander of the Niflheim military.

Ignis had somehow managed to convince Ravus that abandoning his precious Tenebraean colors for that bargaining table was beneficial.

Moreover, Ravus kept the sniping to a minimum, and the covenant was forged with very little hassle.

(The only setback was that Ignis couldn’t quite keep that one rebellious lock of hair from falling over Ravus’ eyes and making him look a touch unkempt. But it was a minor thing.)

And when they parted ways after that vital third mission together, Ravus actually said, far less stiffly than he usually would: “I look forward to seeing you again.”

As if they had been out on a date.

Three, to be exact.

Ravus’ cold marble facade had started to crack around him, and Ignis supposed that was a good thing.

But he shouldn’t read too much into it.

He simply told himself that Queen Lunafreya, in her greater wisdom, and perhaps thanks to some remnant of her powers as the Oracle (no longer needed now, with the Starscourge banished and the True King in place), knew that he and her brother were the best persons for the tasks she set them to.

Maybe she also knew that Ignis’ infinite patience was the best counterbalance to her brother’s inexhaustible sourness.

It was not his place to question the royalty he served.

Or to imagine there was more to what was right in front of him.

Three months of traveling almost constantly together, and Ignis felt he had forgotten how to cook for just one person.

It was the same as those many months he spent traveling with Noct, Gladio and Prompto - the feeling of aloneness was shed, simply and naturally.

He was with someone. And that someone took priority.

Frequently, he and Ravus would confer, just the two of them, to discuss the events of the day. They would meet at a cafe or go out for walks in less populated areas...but due to the sensitive nature of their diplomatic work, they often ended up talking in one another’s rooms, to keep safe from spies and eavesdroppers.

(They always had separate rooms, of course. Ravus insisted on it. And Ignis, for one, had had his fill of sharing his private space.

(Roaming the world on the King’s dime certainly had its perks.)

They could order food up to their rooms, yes...but Ignis cooked light dishes, when their talks ran late. He shopped for ingredients in the morning to make sure he had something to cook at night. It relaxed him.

And goodness knew he needed to relax any way he knew how.

He might have been trained to navigate political labyrinths, but it still took a lot out of him. Sleep didn’t come easily until his busy mind had rested a bit.

Cooking or baking used to do the trick. But three months of traveling, wheeling and dealing were taking their toll on him. His body was starting to soak up the stress.

He was barely aware that he rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck, after setting down the tray of small cakes he had prepared.

Ravus seemed absorbed in the thick tome that detailed the history of the talks for the new trade routes - the people opposed to them, the deals and counter-deals made, the whole sordid affair.

So Ignis was surprised that Ravus was able to notice anything else.

“You’re in pain?” Ravus inquired.

Ignis blinked at him.

Then he realized what Ravus was asking.

“Oh.” He brought his hand down from the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. Might have been from bad posture. I was seated nearly all day at the Accordian council, after all.”

Ravus set aside the documents he had been reading.

“Sit,” he commanded.

 _Let him have the little things_ , Ignis had learned from the Queen. So he sat on the nearest couch chair, expecting to hear something about the documents.

To his surprise, Ravus got to his feet. Made his way over to him.

“What - “ was all Ignis was able to get out, before Ravus laid his hands on Ignis’ shoulders.

“Quiet.”

Ravus’ bare hands were large and strong. On instinct, Ignis tensed up.

But those hands also moved slowly, surely. And in no time at all, they found exactly the right spots that killed any impulse Ignis had to defend himself.

“I used to give massages to my mother,” Ravus explained. “She often suffered from muscle stiffness and stress headaches. I asked her physicians to teach me what to do when it happened.”

Ravus’ mother died when he was 12 years old. He must have learned this therapeutic technique very early in life, mastered it at a young age.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Ignis remembered to say. Ravus really was good at this; he was fast losing all coherence of thought.

“It’s been years,” Ravus answered, in an unreadable tone. “What does anyone still have to be sorry for?”

It was an unexpected thing for Ignis to hear. He still vividly recalled when Ravus looked at Noctis with burning hatred in his eyes, vowing never to forgive -

 _Oh._ That spot, right there, yes. Ignis’ eyes closed on their own.

“You must,” he said haltingly, “miss her...”

“Lunafreya is alive, well and happy. I want for nothing.”

The gentle rhythm of Ravus’ hands on his skin, through the cloth of his shirt, was starting to feel like the roll of ocean waves. Ignis realized he was fast sliding into sleep.

He opened his eyes and tilted his head back, hazily sought Ravus’ gaze.

“Nothing?” he muttered. “For yourself?”

Ignis didn’t know where that came from. He honestly wasn’t thinking straight.

Ravus’ hands stopped moving. Ignis let out a breath. Was it over?

Ravus bent down, meeting his gaze fearlessly, and whispered, “I said be quiet.”

Then pushed his thumbs down hard and upward, forcing Ignis to grunt and to arch his back.

Ravus’ hands resumed their skillful ministrations. He should put a stop to it; Ignis knew that at the back of his mind. They had things they needed to talk about. There were uneaten cakes on a tray.

But he had no idea how much he needed this.

So when Ignis woke at dawn, in his own bed, fully dressed (except for his shoes, which were off and neatly lined beside his bed. Did Ravus do this?), he had no idea how he got there.

He had been in Ravus’ room. They had been talking.

And Ravus had put his hands on him, invoking some sort of Tenebraean magic (he must have. That didn’t feel like any medical procedure Ignis was familiar with).

At some point during this, Ignis must have lost consciousness.

How embarrassing.

As he washed up and dressed for the day, he formulated the apology he was going to deliver as soon as the opportunity presented itself:

_It seems I was more tired than I thought. Rest assured, I will not fall asleep on you again. At our next discussion, I will make sure to put on the coffee._

He would make sure to treat it lightly. It was going to be no big deal.

At the same time, he was aware he was humming in the shower. _Humming_.

He was actually in a good mood. At least enough to think about making light of a sincere apology to a haughty royal. The deep, dreamless sleep of the night prior must have helped.

He had forgotten the last time he slept so well.

At least to himself, Ignis decided to admit that what happened last night _was_ a big deal.

Even if it was not to recur, under any circumstance.


	3. Part Two

Ravus always woke earlier than Ignis did, and slept later. It was a pleasant change of pace. He was someone Ignis didn’t have to pick up after, for once...except in situations when he actually had to speak to people, and Ignis had to rein in some of the arrogance he projected.

So when Ignis went downstairs to the Leville’s lobby, Ravus was already at the outdoor dining area, taking tea. He was likely waiting for Ignis before starting on breakfast. He usually did.

Ignis found himself hesitating to approach.

He wasn’t completely sure how, but Ravus seemed...different.

He wasn’t dressed differently. He was in a light-colored Tenebraean tunic and jacket - casual wear, by his standards. His shoulder-length light blond hair wasn’t styled differently, either; it was its usual all-over-the-place.

But something about the way early sunlight struck the tips of his hair, made stark the lines of his face, got to Ignis.

Ignis was well aware that one’s view of another person could change overnight. They would say or do something completely unexpected, then one’s perception of them would be permanently altered - whether in good or bad ways, remained to be seen.

By any reckoning, the massage from last night counted as “completely unexpected.”

So, was it a good or bad thing that he was seeing Ravus differently now?

_Good. Definitely good. He already knew Ravus was objectively handsome, but he always left that observation for others. It was never his place to pay it too much mind._

_It was just that now, all of a sudden, those regal cheekbones, the unconscious pout, the gleam in his gray eyes, struck Ignis as an exquisite combination._

Well, whatever it was, he had to push it to the back of his mind.

“Good morning,” he greeted, as he finally made his way to Ravus’ table.

Ravus answered him with a nod.

Ignis saw that there were small cakes on his table, near his teacup. There had been four; there were now three.

“These are good,” Ravus remarked. “They might have been better freshly baked, but even after being left out for hours, I don’t believe they lost much flavor.”

Ravus had praised his dishes before, sounding equally bored each time...but somehow, this time, the comment brought a smile to Ignis’ face.

“Thank you,” was his customary reply. “I’m pleased you liked them.”

Ignis pulled up a chair for himself. He opened his mouth, ready to deliver the apology he had painstakingly rehearsed...

“Permit me to be blunt,” Ravus pronounced. “You have some of the most strained muscles I have ever touched. I don’t think what I’ve done is enough. For you to wholly attain the benefits of Tenebraean therapy, I must have access to your entire body.”

Ignis stared at him, mortified.

Did he just say that aloud, out in the open, where anyone passing by could hear?

He took a quick sweeping glance at their environment. There were no other diners, and no passers-by. Except for the one wait staff who stood at attention behind the al fresco counter, and was discreet enough not to let on if she overheard or not.

Ignis was deeply familiar with how people in political families tended to couch their words. To him, though Ravus’ face betrayed no hint of desire, this was a euphemism for _You will let me touch you all over._

And a part of Ignis wanted to cry out _Yes. Yes, PLEASE._

Ignis wouldn’t exactly call himself touch-starved. But starved for _that particular touch_ -

\- was perhaps subject to debate.

“Though the offer is indeed tempting,” he said in a low, polite voice, hoping to signal to Ravus that they needed to use their indoor voices for this subject. “I have no wish to impose on your generosity. Moreover, questions of propriety may be raised.”

Ravus huffed.

“Propriety is not a thing that merits concern, in one’s private quarters,” he declared. “And we already spend time in each other’s rooms regularly. One guesses that if any onlooker can speculate in such a tasteless manner, they would have done so already.”

“That may be,” Ignis readily acknowledged, “but such a suggestion, so openly delivered, may be misconstrued as - “

“Not tonight,” Ravus impatiently clarified. “We have dinner with the First Secretary tonight, which may well run on until late. We’ll both be tired. Some other time.”

He then signaled for the wait staff at the counter to approach, so they could get their breakfast.

Ignis sighed, partly in relief.

There was an apparent mutual desire to let the matter drop, but Ignis hoped it would be dropped permanently. “Some other time” could take place on another mission. Or, with luck, never.

And when it finally happened, on the night before the trade route agreements were set to be signed, Ignis wasn’t sure if luck was in fact on his side or not.

He had been so mindful of hiding when the pain in his neck and shoulder muscles returned. But he forgot himself as they were discussing the possible last-minute complications to the concessions they had spent the last several days meticulously ironing out.

Understandably, it was a tense time. But he still should have been more careful.

Ignis gripped his own shoulder and absently massaged it as he was speaking. And the next thing he knew, Ravus was ordering him to his feet, into his bedroom. And then instructing him to sit on his own bed, his back to Ravus.

“Remove your glasses,” Ravus commanded him. “I need to start with your head.”

So, this was happening. _Little things,_ the Queen had said. But this was not a little thing.

Ignis found himself taking off his glasses anyway.

He was nervous. He wasn’t sure why.

Perhaps it was because, since the last time he felt Ravus’ touch, Ignis had been dancing around the fact that the first son of House Fleuret - someone who had wanted him and Noct dead, not so long ago - had become so damn attractive to him. Pushing it to the back of his mind, at times desperately. It had been days and days of this.

_The stubborn lock of hair that never failed to fall over his eyes. The line of his neck. The decisive tone of his voice. The strength and softness hiding in his hands, like a closely guarded secret._

_All things Ignis had never paid much mind to before. All things that now caught and locked in his attention, every time._

Now Ravus had access to all of him, and the feelings he had repressed were finally catching up.

“I’ll begin,” Ravus announced, quite courteously.

And when his fingertips touched Ignis’ temples he felt a slight shudder go through him.

Magic - it had to be.

Otherwise, it was pure chemistry.

Two things Ignis felt powerless against at this very moment.

It was strange, having someone else’s strong, callused fingers on his skull; the slightest wrong motion could sever a vein or break his neck. It took a while before Ignis could fully relax. But once he did, he found there was no going back; every part of his body wanted that touch, that calming friction.

Ravus’ hands moved from his head down to his neck and shoulders, and repeated the strokes from some days back. They were no less delicious now. And were even more potent, if the sounds they were pulling out of Ignis’ throat were any indication.

 _Great, making little turned-on sounds - something new to apologize for._ But he made up his mind to think about that tomorrow. Ravus was pretty much controlling his breathing at this point. Air moved in and out of his lungs timed to the rhythm set by Ravus’ hands.

“You should lie on your stomach now,” Ravus said presently. “It would be better if you removed your shirt.”

Ignis was in no condition to sense if there was any emotion at all behind those words.

What he knew was that he was given a choice, and he chose to comply.

Without the protection of cloth, Ravus’ hands felt electric on his skin. Ignis didn’t know how he could make them give off so much _heat_.

It was a struggle to decide if the feeling he was experiencing at that point was relaxation or exhilaration. Ravus’ aim seemed to be to make him toe the fine line between both.

Ravus’ hands moved down his spine, finding “knots” on his back that Ignis had not even known were there, and undoing them expertly, taking his time with each.

“You can stop,” Ignis mumbled, face half buried in his pillow, “if you’re tired.”

Ravus didn’t answer. Instead, he brought his hands lower.

He didn’t ask Ignis to take off his trousers. Which was a relief. And he avoided touching Ignis in especially sensitive places, which was an even greater relief.

But by the time he was working out the kinks on Ignis’ left leg, Ignis had drifted off. He was awakened by a gentle touch on his shoulder, and Ravus gently saying “Turn over.”

Drowsily, he complied again. Doing everything that Ravus wanted him to do was...oddly freeing. Through the haze of sleep, the one feeling he was able to acknowledge was _safe_.

It slowly dawned on him that Ravus was on the bed, as well. Kneeling over him, straddling him, without laying his full weight on his body.

And cradling Ignis' face in his hands.

There was a look on Ravus that Ignis had never seen before - curious, helpless, almost pleading.

It was mesmerizing.

As Ignis stared into his eyes, Ravus began to move his hands away from his face. His fingers started pressing down on the flesh around Ignis’ collarbone.

Ignis reached up and caught his hands, stilled them.

Ignis propped himself up on one elbow, and with one hand, reached up.

Snaked one hand behind Ravus’ neck, and slowly pulled him down.

Ignis marveled at how soft Ravus’ lips were against his own. He might have thought they would be - rigid. Made of marble, even, perhaps. More in keeping with Ravus’ sharp angles.

But these lips were warm, and soft, and human. And hungrier than Ignis had dared to imagine.

Good.

Ravus always slept later, woke earlier. Ignis vaguely remembered Ravus holding him close, and feeling too spent to even ask if it was all right for him to fall asleep in that position.

And when Ignis opened his eyes, he saw Ravus was already awake. Still on his side of Ignis’ bed, still undressed, watching Ignis thoughfully.

Waiting for him to greet first.

Smug royal that he was.

“Good morning,” Ignis obliged.

Ravus answered with a nod.

“How are you feeling?” was Ravus’ answer.

It was an unusual question - for one thing, because one didn’t usually reply to “good morning” with that, and for another, because Ravus expressing concern for another person was always unexpected.

“...Good,” Ignis answered, a bit surprised by it, himself.

He _did_ feel good. Refreshed. _Healed_ , if that word even applied, in this case. Ready to take on their last stressful day in Altissia.

And, at the same time, completely willing to stay in bed all day, with Ravus beside him.

Ravus reached out to brush a lock of hair back from Ignis’ forehead.

“Excellent,” he remarked.

Ignis briefly considered leaning in for a kiss. But Ravus was already getting out of bed.

“We shouldn’t waste time,” he was saying, in his usual imperious tone. “The signing won’t be for a few hours yet, but we can’t dally.”

Ignis felt a touch of disappointment. He wasn’t yet sure what last night had been, but a complete return to normal the following day was a tad anti-climactic.

After days of Ignis painfully pining for this man...he acts like nothing happened?

Ravus put on one of the silken robes provided by the Leville for their high-profile guests. He moved to Ignis’ side of the bed. Sat down on it.

His hand rested on top of Ignis’ hand. It was warm. Almost as warm as it was the previous night.

“And when the signing is done,” he continued, “we should put off our return to Insomnia for a few more days. I would like to spend a little more time with you. Here.”

He sounded almost shy.

For the first time, Ignis noticed that even as his words commanded, there was a note of _asking_ underneath: an unspoken admission that Ignis could say no at any time, and it would not lead to a rejoinder, or any other taxing consequence.

A secret ceding of control to Ignis.

Had it been like this for a long time, and it had just escaped him?

Ignis curled his fingers around Ravus’.

He smiled, and finally went in for that kiss he had been wanting since he opened his eyes.

Ravus readily gave it to him.

And then, Ignis felt like anything was possible. They could stay in this room for a few more minutes. No scandals would come out of that decision. The agreements were still going to be signed without a hitch.

And once that was done, they could go off schedule. Insomnia could wait.

Altissia was, after all, such a romantic place.


	4. Epilogue

The first thing Gladio told Ignis as he got out of the car was “So...you should know that Noct moved back into his old room.”

Ignis had feared there was something amiss, because Gladio and Prompto had insisted on seeing him first thing upon his return to Insomnia...and those two were occupied with their own pursuits. They wouldn’t want to take time off their own busy schedules just to welcome Ignis home from one of his many diplomatic missions.

...unless there was a problem with their friend, the King.

“They had a fight,” Prompto elaborated. “Luna and Noct, I mean. Seems pretty bad. That was over a week ago, I think...”

“I was gone for thirteen bloody days,” Ignis said calmly, as he adjusted the fit of his driving gloves. “How could things have fallen apart so quickly?

“ ‘Fallen apart’ is probably an overstatement,” Gladio corrected. “They’re still married. They still attend official functions as a couple. Pretty sure they’re still ga-ga over each other. When we talk to them separately, it’s obvious that they miss living in together...”

“Cool earring, by the way,” Prompto interjected.

Ignis self-consciously touched the piece of jewelry clipped to the top of his left ear. It was new, and small, and he had been hoping his hair would hide it, so that no one would notice.

Prompto had always had an eye for accessories, though. Of course he would notice.

“Altissian silver,” he vaguely answered. “Thank you.”

Gladio ignored them both and continued, “Our best guess is, someone said something the other one didn’t like, and things kind of escalated.”

“Walk with me,” Ignis told them. “Tell me what it was about.”

They couldn’t, as it turned out, tell Ignis anything. Noctis refused to confide in anyone - even his old friends - so no one knew what he and Luna were fighting about, that was so bad that he had to move out (was it banishment? Self-exile?) of the royal bedroom, and back into his old bachelor pad in the Citadel.

“You can imagine the tabloids are having a field day,” Gladio went on to say. “Speculations of divorce are all over the place, going out as far as Tenebrae. Prompto and I are getting ambushed by muckraking reporters every time we go out.”

“Not like we’d tell them what’s up even if we knew, though,” Prompto quickly assured Ignis. “But we know he’ll talk to you, Iggy. And you’ll tell us if it’s anything we can help with. Right?”

Ignis promised both his friends that he would keep them apprised.

Noct being sulky was just true to form. But because he was now King, and married to one of the most understanding, most insightful people whom Ignis personally knew, it was still surprising to Ignis to find that he had not yet, in fact, quickly outgrown _all_ of the sulkiness.

What could they have fought about? His imagination ran wild. At the same time, he comforted himself with the thought that it could be nothing serious.

Noct might still be a child in many respects, but he was no fool; he would not throw away the happiness he and everyone around him had fought so hard for, over a simple disagreement.

Noct slouched in a sofa, clad in an old t-shirt, playing videogames to unwind, was definitely not a new sight to Ignis.

It was probably just a bit more comical now, because he was the motherfucking King of Lucis, and should be making more productive use of his free time.

He knew Noctis had the sense to save his game before Ignis pulled the plug on it. He had done it so many times in the past.

And when he was done, he sat opposite Noct, who sighed and flashed him a mirthless smile.

“So,” Noctis greeted acidly. “You’re back. Looks like the sea air did you good.”

“Wonderful to see you again, too,” Ignis retorted. “The trade agreements have been signed without incident, thank you for asking. We have reopened five of the old routes, and established two new ones, with entry points along the southern coast of Accordo.”

Noctis leaned back against the couch.

“Could’ve told me that tomorrow, at the morning briefing,” he replied.

“I _could_ ,” Ignis brightly said, “except I’m also here to ask why you seem to have been evicted from the royal bedroom.”

“ ‘Evicted’?” Noctis echoed laughingly. “No, I _left_. Who told you I was kicked out?”

“No one. Basically, no one knows what happened. I’ve been sent to find out.”

Noctis stared at him, hostile for a moment.

Then he threw his head back with a loud groan.

“You’re always a diplomat now, aren’t you?” he accused Ignis. “No off switch. Was a time I thought I could count on you to be by my side when I needed you.”

“Is that what this is about?” Ignis ventured. “You’re angry because the Queen keeps sending me off on missions? Noct, you could always call -”

“It’s not that, okay,” Noct said irritably. “It’s because she keeps sending you off with _Ravus_.”

Hearing the name cut short any objection Ignis might have had. He let Noctis speak.

“And...” Noctis looked away. “I worry about you. All right?”

“About me?” Ignis asked. “Since it’s Ravus I’m traveling with?”

“That so hard to believe?” Noct looked back at his childhood friend, eyes sharp and gleaming. “Guy tried to kill you. Tried to kill all of us. All of a sudden, he’s your new traveling buddy. As if he got rid of the deep-set wish to slit your throat, just like that?”

At least Noct was talking. It was a signal to Ignis that they were finally past the awkward start to their conversation.

“Luna can’t see where I’m coming from. She thinks Ravus doesn’t hold grudges. But I don’t feel like I can afford to believe that.”

“Noct,” Ignis softly began, “I’ve traveled extensively with Ravus, and I can assure you...he no longer bears the throne of Lucis and its representatives ill will. He might have, in the past, but seeing his sister cared for and happy...” He took a pause, to make sure the words hit home: “If you’ll take my word for it, it’s enough for him.”

Mention of Luna by Ignis, and not in a negative context, seemed to bring a semblance of calm back into the situation.

“You trying to make me feel bad, Specs?” Noctis asked, in almost remorseful tone. “Like I don’t care for her enough?”

“No,” Ignis immediately replied. “You’re doing your best by her. Always. Misunderstandings happen in any partnership - they don’t necessarily dissolve that partnership. A marriage is no different.”

Noctis seemed grateful to hear this. He certainly had no desire to prove to him that he loved Luna; Ignis, of all people, knew better than to require proof.

“Granted, Ravus will no doubt look unkindly on you if this disagreement of yours drags on,“ Ignis blithely continued. “But I’ll spare no effort in defending you to him.”

Noctis sighed. Just as hearing Luna’s name put him at ease, Ravus’ name put him on the defensive again.

“Is that really the only reason for your spat?” Ignis asked. “You distrusted Ravus, and didn’t want me traveling with him?”

“No,” Noctis bucked. “That’s not all. Luna, she...has this crazy plan to...set the two of you up.”

“What?” Ignis chuckled - a bit too awkwardly, in retrospect.

“I’m serious.” He looked at Ignis. “She thinks you’re ‘cute together,’ whatever that means...”

Ignis didn’t know what to say to that. He could pretend to be scandalized, or play it down with a deadpan joke.

But deciding took too much time, and before anything could come out of his mouth, Noctis had proceeded with his rant.

“I didn’t... _like_ the thought that she could inconvenience you on a whim. That it’s something she _does_.”

“I assure you, Noct...I am completely capable of making decisions for myself, when it comes to my official duties.” Ignis pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I live in service to the Lucian throne. But that doesn’t mean I will simply submit to its ‘whims.’ I didn’t do it for you - and I won’t do it for the Queen.”

That seemed to placate Noctis, somewhat.

“Four successful missions can attest to the fact that we were well chosen to represent the Crown.” Ignis softened his voice a bit. “And if you’re afraid she’s meddling, forcing us together...I can make conscious decisions regarding matters of the heart, too.”

Noctis looked into Ignis’ eyes, searching, the way he often did as a child, when he wanted to find out if Ignis was keeping anything from him.

(Ignis had, over the years, kept many things from him, successfully. But that never stopped Noctis from trying to ferret them out - or at least, from finding out that there was information he had no access to.)

A glimmer caught Noctis’ eye. His gaze focused on it. “Cool earring.”

“Yes.” Ignis timidly touched it, for the second time that day. “Ravus purchased it for me.”

Realization dawned. Noctis’ eyes widened. Much like Luna’s did, when Noctis yelled at her some days back.

“He’s wearing a similar one.” Ignis shrugged lightly. “Just a heads up.”

“Oh dear gods,” Noctis breathed. “She was right.”

Ignis smiled.

He reached over and patted Noct on the shoulder.

“One thing you need to learn this early, Your Majesty,” he said, a note of kindness in his low voice, “is that she usually is.”

Ignis stood, leaving Noctis to sputter, as his thoughts tangled together.

“I brought back some frozen seafood,” he announced as he walked unhurriedly to the kitchen. “It’s almost time for supper, so I should get started on cooking. Is sea bass all right?”

He could feel Noctis’ bewildered stare on his back. Ignis sighed. They were going to have a long conversation that evening, over dinner.

And then, hopefully, Noct would see reason, and move back in with his Queen.

Ravus was calling on Luna first thing tomorrow. So Ignis had to get to him tonight. To assure him that Noctis and Luna _might_ have had a misunderstanding earlier, but Noctis was going to apologize. Profusely.

Even here, at home, it seemed Ignis had disputes to iron out.

But it wasn’t enough to cause him stress. He was confident things would work out, somehow. The earring he wore was a promise.

Anything was possible.


End file.
